"Please mark: the letter is to be given to my wife alone, or to my child. If they are both dead, the letter is to be sent back to me unopened, as I tell you it contains private matters, only relating to my wife and me. "I am, Reverend Sir,-- "Your obedient, humble servant,-- "Robert Hallam, 9749. "To the Rev Christie Bayle,-- "Curate of King's Castor." "Why, the fellow seems to have grown vulgarised and coarse in style. That is not the sort of letter our old manager would have written." "The handwriting is greatly changed too." "Of course it is his?" "Oh, yes; there is no doubt about it. The change is natural, if the life the poor wretches lead out there be as bad as I have heard." "Hah! I don't suppose they find them feather beds, Bayle." "If half I know be true," said Bayle indignantly, "the place is a horror. It is a scandal to our country and our boasted Christianity!" "What, Botany Bay?" "The whole region of the penal settlement." "There, there, Bayle! you are too easy, man! You infect me. I shall begin to repent of my share in sending that fellow out of the country. Let's get back. We must have been out here an hour." "An hour and a half," said Bayle, looking at his watch. "Yes; we will ask if they can see us to-night. We will not press it if they prefer to be alone." Thisbe must have been in the passage, the door was opened so quickly. Her face was harder than ever, and her moustache, by the light of the candle upon the bracket, looked like a dark line drawn by a smutty finger. There was a defiant look, too, in her eyes; but it was evident that she had been crying, as she ushered the friends into the room where Mrs Hallam was sittings with Julia kneeling at her feet and resting her arms upon her mother's knees. Both rose as Bayle and Sir Gordon entered. "We only wish to say good-night," said the latter apologetically. "I have been expecting you both for some time," said Mrs Hallam calmly; but it was plain to her friends that she was fighting hard to master her emotion. Sir Gordon signed to Bayle to speak, but the latter remained closed of lip, and the silence became most painful. Julia looked wistfully at her mother, whose face was transfigured by the joy that illumined it once more, though it had no reflection in her child's face, which was rendered sad by the traces of the tears that she had lately shed. "Your husband is well?" said Bayle at last, for Mrs Hallam was looking at him reproachfully. "Yes, oh yes, he is quite well," she said proudly; and something of her old feeling seemed to come back, for the eyes that looked from Sir Gordon to Bayle gave a defiant flash. "Well?" she said impatiently, as if weary of waiting to be questioned. "Do you wish your friends to know the contents of your husband's letter?" "Yes!" she cried; "all that is not of a private nature."